


Things My Heart Used to Know

by RachelisTheWendyBird



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Anastasia (1997) References, Belle Cares, Budding Romance, F/M, Roses, Rumplestiltskin doesn't know how to deal with it, Singing, Song: Once Upon a December
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2020-05-19 09:19:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19354060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RachelisTheWendyBird/pseuds/RachelisTheWendyBird
Summary: Belle loves to spend her time in the vast gardens of the Dark One's castle. One day she hears someone singing a strange song, and decides to investigate. Will she learn anything about her mysterious captor?





	Things My Heart Used to Know

Winter raged in the Enchanted Forest, but within the walls of the Dark One’s garden it was always the height of spring. Belle had taken to spending long hours wandering through the twisted paths among the flowers. All the gardens at her father’s castle were straight and clear, set out in geometric patterns with flowers planted in rows according to kind. But this garden was like a tangled jungle of plants, everything from local wild flowers to exotic things Belle couldn’t even name. She preferred that. 

It was almost the winter solstice, and Belle knew at that time she would be banished to her room, the door locked, while Rumplestiltskin performed some dark ritual. He had explained this to her during one of his funny moods; the one where he would be nice to her and seem to actually care about her feelings and well-being. The first time Belle had seen this mood had been when he’d given her the library. Since then, they were becoming more and more frequent. It was so odd to watch him during this particular mood; he was sweet, endearingly awkward, and would even crack jokes. Belle found it rather…charming. If she was honest with herself, she was growing rather fond of him.

Belle inhaled deeply, taking in the intoxicating perfume of the myriad flowers, and sighed contentedly. She had also taken to gathering flowers and arranging them around the castle. She smiled as she remembered the first time Rumplestiltskin had caught her doing it:

“What are you doing?” He had said.

“Putting some flowers around the castle,” she’d answered, not looking up from the vase of lilies and orange blossoms she was rearranging. 

“Why?” he’d asked, with one of his funny little hand gestures.

“It’s so gloomy in here. You need something to liven the place up a bit.”

After a moment’s silence he’d said, “Fine. But don’t let me find any _dead_ flowers sitting around.” And then he’d left.

Belle smiled at the memory, then continued cutting roses from the enormous bushes that lined the path. The pink ones were her favorite, but she also collected red, yellow, white, lavender, and even blue ones. As she placed a vivid purple rose in her basket, she became aware of a strange sound drifting towards her on the breeze. it was soft and lilting, kind of like...singing?

Curious, Belle walked towards the sound. It led her out of the rose bushes, past the rhododendrons, and into a meadow of wildflowers dotted by trees. She hurried across it, and found herself surrounded by hundreds of large flowering bushes. She pushed through them, getting close enough to recognize the voice. Or at least, she thought she recognized it. But it couldn’t actually be…could it?

Ahead was a willow tree, poking up above a group of French lilac bushes. Belle crept towards them, not wanting to be caught and accused of spying. The lilac was growing very close together, so she only just able to squeeze her way between two of them. Just beyond them was a clearing, and there, beneath the willow tree, lay Rumplestiltskin.

So her suspicion had been right; he was the one singing. Belle stayed hidden in the lilac and listened to the end of his song:

_“Far away, long ago,_  
glowing dim as an ember,  
things my heart  
used to know,  
things it yearns to remember…” 

His voice wasn’t exactly beautiful, but it had and ethereal quality that made Belle feel she could listen to him sing for hours.

_“And a song_  
someone sings…  
once upon a December.” 

His song finished, and for a moment he continued to lie on the lush grass. He looked so open, so vulnerable lying there, Belle thought. As she watched, Rumplestiltskin sat up, one knee up with an arm resting over it, resting his weight on the other arm. He gazed around his clearing, the guarded expression he usually wore gone, leaving no trace of pretense. For once, Belle could see the man behind those mad eyes. She noticed a gentleness about him that she had only glimpsed on rare occasions. What she didn’t notice was that during her secret observation she’d been leaning forward, and a lilac bush doesn’t have strong enough branches to hold up a woman.

With a cry of surprise Belle fell forward into the clearing, her basket of roses spilling onto the grass. 

“Belle!” Rumplestiltskin cried in astonishment.

Belle looked up from her sprawled position on the grass. Rumplestiltskin was tense as a cat ready to pounce, but he hadn’t moved from his position. So…maybe he wasn’t angry?

“Sorry,” she said, lifting herself up into a sitting position and dusting off the blue fabric of her dress. “I uh, I was picking roses in the garden,” she gestured to the scattered flowers.

“We’re a long way from the roses, dearie,” he said.

Belle worried her bottom lip. “Well, I...I thought I heard someone singing. I didn’t think it was you at first, but I didn’t know who else it could be, so I went looking and--”

“You heard me singing?” Rumplestiltskin cut her off, gesturing at her with his fluttery hand. His tone was skeptical. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” Belle said, tensing in anticipation of his anger.. 

“That’s impossible,” he said.

“What is?”

“That you heard me singing.”

“Why’s that?” Belle asked, frowning.

“Because, that song is special.” With that, Rumplestiltskin wrenched himself up.

“Special how?” Belle asked, also standing

“It doesn’t matter; you shouldn’t have been able to hear. There must have been some flaw in the magic.” He turned to leave.

“Tell me anyway. What’s special about the song?”

He turned back towards her, looking annoyed. “Only someone who cares for the singer can hear that song sung.” 

Belle’s breath caught as the implication of Rumplestiltskin’s words hit her, and she blushed. Was it really true? Perhaps Rumplestiltskin was right, and there was a flaw in the magic. But she thought of his high-pitched laugh, and his gestures of kindness, and the way his eyes lit up when he talked about the things he was passionate about, and she knew it was true; she cared about him.

“And that is clearly impossible,” Rumplestiltskin said bitterly. He turned and marched away, on guard once more.

No...it was true...she cared about him, and she wanted him to know that she cared.

“Wait,” she called after him. “Please, I...I _do_ care about you!”

Rumplestiltskin froze. For a moment he just stood there, but then he spun on his heel and gave her a look of mistrust.

“What?” he murmured.

“I said I _do_ care about you.” 

Rumplestiltskin tilted his head to the side, his brow furrowed in uncertain marvel. But then he shook his head and grimaced. “I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true,” Belle said. She moved cautiously towards Rumplestiltskin, as though he were a frightened horse who might bolt. “I care about you, and I’ve spent all this time trying to know you better. Haven’t you noticed?”

Rumplestiltskin twiddled his fingers, biting his tongue and looking down at his boots, like he always did when he was uncomfortable.

“I…thought you were just impertinent.” He said.

Belle laughed. “Of course you’d think so. But I’m serious. I enjoy your company and our talks. I like your castle. I like...you.”

Belle blushed again at the confession, and though it was difficult to tell with his purple and gold skin, she could’ve sworn he blushed as well.

“How can you care for a monster?” He muttered.

“I don’t think you’re a monster,” Belle said. “I’m not even afraid of you anymore.”

“Well…that’s disappointing.”

Belle laughed again, and she was certain she saw Rumplestiltskin smile. But he shook his head again and stared down at the grass by his feet, and Belle knew he wasn’t entirely convinced. Awkward silence settled between them.

“Well, are you going to help me pick up these roses?” Belle asked, breaking the silence and shuffling towards her fallen basket.

A snap echoed from behind her, and before she could even bend down the roses lay neatly stacked in the basket. She turned to give Rumplestiltskin an amused glare, then picked up the basket.

“Well, that’s one way to do it,” she said.

Rumplestiltskin flashed a grin, then started to walk out of the clearing. Belle followed. After a moment he noticed the footsteps right behind him and turned to stare at Belle as though she were an inexplicably cheerful puppy following him home.

“Don’t you have something to do?” he asked.

“Nope!” she answered cheerfully. 

He stared at her for a moment longer, then resumed walking.

for a while they were silent, but Belle’s curiosity urged her to speak. He was in a (somewhat) good mood, after all. Maybe he’d open up to her. “So,” she said, staring at the purple rose she twirled between her fingers. “What is it that your heart yearns to remember?”

Rumplestiltskin gave her a confused look.

“The song,” she said. “I could feel how sincere you were while singing it. And I really do want to know you. Will you tell me?”

Rumplestiltskin thought for a moment. “There are many things I no longer have and can no longer remember,” he said. 

“Like what?”

Rumplestiltskin said nothing, and Belle could see that almost frightened look his eyes held when she started to pry.

“Please tell me,” she said. “I really do care, you know.”

Belle watched the war in Rumplestiltskin’s face. For a fraction of a moment, she thought the man hidden deep within would shine through. But then the Dark One triumphed, and the window into the mystery of his being shut with a snap. 

“You wouldn’t understand,” he said harshly. “And I have no desire to tell you, anyway.”

His pace quickened, and he swept passed her to vanish in a cloud of purple smoke--the exact same shade as the rose she held. Belle stood there, gazing at the spot where he’d vanished, feeling a little sad.

**Author's Note:**

> The song Rumplestiltskin sings is "Once Upon a December" from the movie "Anastasia."


End file.
